


The Tranquil

by WardenCommanderCousland



Series: The Light in the Shadow [9]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Divine Cassandra Pentaghast, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Hawke & Varric Tethras Friendship, One Shot, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Purple Hawke, Skyhold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 16:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12729966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WardenCommanderCousland/pseuds/WardenCommanderCousland
Summary: Hawke passes through Skyhold to see Varric again after the events of Inquisition.(While this is tagged as DAII, it takes place post-Inquisition so big DAII and Inquisition spoiler alert)





	The Tranquil

Marian Hawke watched the aftermath of the ball with mild interest. Drunken couples entwined, struggling to reach their accommodations throughout Skyhold. Even the king appeared to have found someone to hold close in the night. How scandalous, Hawke thought briefly, noting the king’s mistress’s gown. While clearly well-made in an Orlesian style, was a fashion at least two years out of date. Probably a lower level noble, or a second or third daughter.

She had only just returned to Skyhold from Weisshaupt, frustrated that the Wardens had chosen to close ranks after the incident at Adamant. She’d made her entrance just as quietly as the last time she arrived, lurking in the shadows outside the castle’s tavern. Just because Seeker Pentaghast hadn’t arrested Hawke the last time she was at Skyhold didn’t mean she wouldn’t try again, and now the Seeker had the full weight of the Chantry behind her as the newly-elected Divine.

A newly-elected Divine who hadn’t even bothered to attend the party in her honor, Hawke observed. Cassandra had spent the entire night in the armory, practicing with weapons she would soon no longer need. Hawke admired the Seeker’s grace and form with a sword, her noble upbringing artfully intertwined with sheer resolve and strength.

Hawke huddled closer against the cold, briefly longing for Kirkwall’s warmth. Even on winter nights, you could roam the streets in only a doublet and hose. And something to arm yourself against the ever-present bandits hoping to grab hold of the Carta’s territory or just the coin purse at your hip.

It had been four years since she fled Kirkwall with Anders, and nearly a year since she’d convinced him to hide in Rivain with some of Isabela’s “associates”. Maybe she’d pass through on her way back, even if just for a fleeting argument over the welfare of mages that would inevitably end in bed, as they always had.

“Where are you, Varric?” Hawke whispered in the night. She’d overheard a pair of Orlesian nobles speculating where the famous author could be hiding, how scandalous that he wasn’t attending the ball.

Finally, she spotted the dwarf, leaving through the castle’s kitchens with his new Tranquil secretary. Hawke had heard rumors that Varric’s publisher had threatened to send one of his Carta thugs to enforce deadlines, but seemed to accept Varric’s hiring of his own assistant. Hawke tried not to focus on the Chantry brand on the Tranquil’s forehead; she could only hear Anders reciting his manifesto for the hundred-thousandth time.

“Are you looking for a room, Miss?” The tavern’s dwarf barkeep poked his head out the door. “There are still some cots available in the tower. I can’t promise that Harding isn’t going to start a singalong but at least it’s warmer than that shrub.” He jutted his thumb at the bushes beneath the window.

“In a bit,” Hawke said, waiving him away. “I’m meeting someone.”

“Ain’t no one decent you’re meeting that ain’t already in bed, miss,” the barkeep said, closing the door. Hawke heard him mutter “suit yourself” as the latch engaged.

Keeping to the shadows, Hawke cut across the castle’s yard to reach the door she saw Varric and his secretary enter. She was greeted by stairs leading both up and down; on a hunch, she headed into the tower’s basement. After only a flight, she knew she’d guessed correctly. Varric’s rough voice floated through an open door on the next landing.

“I’m telling you, Blondie, Curly hooking up with the Herald is the best thing that’s ever happened to that man. If you thought he was a tight-ass in Kirkwall, you wouldn’t believe how he was when the Inquisition started.”

Blondie? Hawke stopped in her tracks. Varric loved his nicknames, but she’d never once heard him reuse one. That could only mean…

Andraste’s flaming skirts, they caught him. Hawke slumped against the stone wall in the staircase, overcome with grief at the realization that the worst outcome for Anders, the one she’d always refused to consider, had come to pass. She’d always assumed he would be killed once the Chantry finally caught up with him. They must have caught him by surprise, been ready to perform the Rite as soon as they had their hands on him. There was no way Anders – or Vengeance – would have willingly submitted.

The Nightmare demon had known, had hinted at it, tormented her as they’d tried to escape the Fade. He told her she couldn’t protect him, knew she was foolish to leave him in the hands of others. But how could she have brought him with her, when all of the Ferelden and Orlesian Grey Wardens were hearing the Calling? Anders himself heard whispers, kept saying it was too soon. And then, with Corypheus--she’d thought he was safe in Rivain.

Or did Varric force him into it? The price for Anders’s protection? She knew the dwarf was still furious with Anders for the predicament he’d placed them all in, but he also loved Hawke enough that he’d agreed to help keep Anders safe. Hawke slid down the wall to the floor, landing harder and louder than she’d intended.

“Did you hear that?” Varric asked. He poked his head out the door. His square face broke into a broad grin when he spotted Hawke slumped on the floor. “Hawke! You’re just in time! I was about to remind Blondie why he shouldn’t challenge a dwarf in cards!”

He helped Hawke to her feet and guided her into the room, a sparingly furnished servant’s bed chamber. The Tranquil was seated on the bed. “Hello,” he said flatly, not meeting Hawke’s gaze.

Hawke tried to unclench her fists but found herself unable. It was Anders and yet, it wasn’t. Aside from the healing Chantry brand, his long, blonde hair had been sloppily cut and dyed brown. His once proud posture was now hunched. She whirled around to glare at Varric.

“How long has he been like this? Did you find him this way? Or did you force him into it youself?”

Varric stretched out his arms in front of him, bracing against an expected assault. Hawke noticed Bianca’s conspicuous absence. The dwarf wasn’t as vigilant as he used to be. “You really think I would have forced _Anders_ to become that _thing_? He would have roasted me inside out at the suggestion!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me he’d been caught?!” Hawke swung a fist towards Varric. Her aim was off considerably; he didn’t even have to duck to avoid the punch, though he did run towards the bed. “You knew! You wouldn’t have hired him if you thought he’d still be in danger! You knew the Chantry had already gotten to him! You knew and you kept it from me!”

“Stop,” Anders said quietly. His hand caught Hawke’s wrist, staying her second punch. She turned to look him in the eyes. They held the same fire as always, betraying the emotions that his voice suppressed.

“You’re not really…” Hawke trailed off. Anders wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. For what felt like an eternity, it was the only sound in the room.

Varric cleared his throat finally. “It was his idea,” he said cautiously. “He’d heard that the Wardens had been rescued, and I told him that Corypheus was gone – for good this time – and he wanted to come here, wait for you. Trust me, Hawke, I took no pleasure in branding his forehead.”

“It seems I was right in assuming you’d come here first,” Anders said. “As much as I enjoy Isabela’s company, and that of her friends, I couldn’t bear not knowing where you were. Pretending to be Tranquil seemed safest.”

Hawke realized she’d been holding her breath for as long as Anders had spoken. She looked over at Varric again. “Is he really safe here?”

“As long as Cassandra doesn’t look too closely – and I think she’s a bit too distracted right now to do that. He should be fine. For now.”

Anders nodded. “The Chantry should be easy enough to avoid with my disguise, so the Wardens are more my concern. I doubt the King will be shipping me off to Amaranthine unattended, and the Warden-Constable doesn’t know I’m here. Most of the castle seems to believe that ‘Blondie’ is just another of Varric’s ironic nicknames.”

Varric inched towards the door. “I’ve got some things to take care of, if you don’t mind my leaving you here.” He nodded and exited quickly.

Hawke turned back to Anders. “I wish I could bring you with me. I don’t like leaving you here, with so many templars and…for the love of the Maker, the Divine herself is here. And Sister Nightingale, who may be the most terrifying person I’ve ever met, and that includes Aveline when she’s had enough of my bullshit. Anders, half the people in this castle have been hunting you for years. If they figure out who you are, they would subject you to the Rite of Tranquility for real.”

“Taking me back to Kirkwall would be even more dangerous,” Anders pointed out, sitting back on the bed.

“I never said I was going to Kirkwall.”

Anders smiled and pulled Hawke down next to him. “You love a lost cause, Hawke. You still believe the city can be saved, and Maker’s breath, I know you’ll try. Providing Sebastian allows you within a mile of the city without arresting you, of course.”

He kissed her forehead and continued, “I’m only staying here as long as Varric needs me to. I came to Skyhold because I believed it was my best chance of seeing you again, but after this, it has to end.”

Hawke began to protest but Anders silenced her. “You know this, Hawke. You always have. The Chantry is only after you because they correctly believe you’re harboring me. If you don’t know where I am, if you haven’t heard from me, they’ll let you go. You can have a normal life again.”

Hawke let out a mirthless laugh. “My life hasn’t been normal since the darkspawn came to Lothering. Why should it begin now?”

“You have a chance, Hawke. You restored your mother’s family and have standing in Kirkwall now. You can do more good without me in your life.” Hawke felt Anders’s forehead press against the crown of her head. “I warned you long ago that this would only end in heartbreak, and you still left your door unlocked for me. You have driven me crazy in all senses of the word and given me more sleepless nights than I could ever count, for good and bad reasons, but we have to end this. You’ve refused in the past, but I’m not giving you a choice anymore. Once you leave Skyhold, you won’t see me again.”

“Then I won’t leave.” Hawke broke out of his arms and looked Anders in the eye. His brown eyes were full of sorrow, but held an echo of determination.

“If you don’t, I will.” Anders gestured toward the door. “You know this is for the best. Leave me here. Varric will keep me safe as long as he can, and I will have a permanent solution before he returns to Kirkwall. Don’t seek me out, Hawke.”

Hawke knew she wasn’t going to change his mind – when had she ever been able to, really? They’d fought since day one, and she knew she’d spent most of their relationship trying to save Anders from himself. She knew she’d failed at that as well the second Kirkwall’s chantry went up in flames.

She kissed Anders on the forehead, directly on the brand he’d willingly accepted, his last attempt to escape the Chantry by hiding in plain sight. There were so many things Hawke wanted to say, but the words were gone and she knew Anders would refuse to hear them anyway. She turned and climbed back up the stairs towards the courtyard.

“Still waiting on that friend of yours?” The dwarven barkeep stood in the tavern’s doorway, wiping a mug with a rag that seemed to provide the opposite of the intended effect.

Hawke shook her head and continued to walk towards where her borrowed horse was stabled. She had many miles to ride and needed to leave without looking back. She tacked up her horse, grateful that her pack hadn’t been moved, and led it out into the frigid yard. Not for the first time, she wished the Inquisitor had told her to stay behind in the Fade instead of Stroud. She doubted she would have been able to finish off the demon, but the pain of dying in that place of torment would have paled in comparison to this.

Hawke climbed into the saddle and rode out through the gates she’d entered only a few hours ago. A few Inquisition guards nodded as she rode past. To them, she wasn’t the Champion of Kirkwall but just another traveler, stopping through Skyhold to pay her respects to the Inquisitor and the new Divine. There was no reason to stay.


End file.
